Do You Want to Come Back to My Place?
by Culumacilinte
Summary: A continuation of the D'you wanna come back to my place sketch. Written in script form, as if it were merely the end of the sketch which the Pythons decided not to air. Pairing: John Cleese as the Officer and Michael Palin as the man who approaches him


Title: "Do You Want to Come Back to My Place?" and the Saga which Followed After

Rating: PG-13 for language and sexual references

Summary: A continuation of the "D'you want to come back to my place?" sketch with John Cleese as a policeman and Michael Palin as the man who approaches him. It's written in script form, with a narrator and stage directions, as it were, as if it was merely that in truth- a continuation of the sketch which the Pythons decided not to air.

Disclaimer: I have given the Officer and the Man names, which are entirely of my own invention. However, the characters themselves, and the people I envision playing them belong to Monty Python and to themselves. Their wives and the neighbour lady are also mine. I'm not sure about the narrator, though…

**Cast of Characters**

The Officer- Victor Reginald: John Cleese

The Man- Arthur MacLeod: Michael Palin

The Narrator: Eric Idle

Arthur's Wife- Vivian MacLeod: Eric Idle

Victor's Wife- Barbara James-Reginald: Terry Jones

The Neighbour Lady: Graham Chapman

_The scene opens. A tall police officer is standing by a roadside across from a park, looking bored, when a slight man in a brown sport coat runs up to him._

Man: Inspector, Inspector!

Officer: Yes, sir?

Man: I was sitting on a park bench just now and I put my coat down and when I picked it up again I found my wallet had gone and ₤15 had been stolen.

Officer: Did you see anyone?

Man: (earnestly) No, no-one at all.

Officer: Well, there's very little we can do about that, sir.

Man: Oh… (awkward pause) D'you want to come back to my place?

_The officer's head snaps up, his expression carefully blank- he is clearly thinking hard. There is another extremely long, awkward silence wherein the two markedly avoid each other's eyes._

Officer: Yeah, alright.

_They walk off. Cut to a modest suburban house; through the window the man and the officer can be seen in the parlour._

Narrator: And so they did. The man (whose name, incidentally, was Arthur MacLeod) took the officer (who was called Victor Reginald) over to his house and sat him down for tea. Problematically though, once he had done this, he was overcome with a sudden inexplicable shyness and spent the greater part of the next half and hour trying to make conversation, and failing miserably. Eventually however, Victor got so tired of his beating around the bush that he simply grabbed him-

_He does so. Arthur squeaks_

Narrator: -ripped off his clothes, threw him down onto the couch, and fucked him through the proverbial cushions. (clears throat) Several times.

_From the house, there comes the sound of moans, slaps, and once, the distinct declaration of "Oooh, you naughty, naughty boy; you'll need to be punished, you will." and then, after a pause, a surprised yelp of "Handcuffs?"_

Narrator: And so the day passed; they shagged, had afternoon tea, shagged, went out for a fag, and shagged some more

_That evening. The front door of the house is opened and Arthur ushers Victor out. Arthur looks around, obviously checking to see if there are any neighbours in earshot. Seeing an elderly lady next door, he clears his throat and pastes on a wide smile._

Arthur: Had a wonderful time, officer, really. So kind of you to stop by.

Victor: Oh, it was nothing, sir. I must say, I rather enjoyed myself as well, if you take my meaning.

_He waggles his eyebrows at Arthur, who shushes him and giggles_

Arthur: Yes, yes. You shall have to come back later- finish showing me that _fascinating _bit with the handcuffs, mm?

_The neighbour lady gives the two of them a curious look and Arthur hastily shoves Victor out onto the path._

Arthur: (whispered) Friday at seven- the missus'll be out with friends.

_Victor gives him a quick nod and a smile and heads off. Arthur flashes the neighbour lady a grin and shuts the door._

Narrator: And so their affair continued for some time, quite happily and full of lots and lots of hot gay sex… and bondage… and- (pauses abruptly). Ahem. And so their affair continued for some time, quite happily- naturally there was a lot of gay sex going on, but of course, I needn't mention that, as it is completely irrelevant and not at all necessary to the continuation of the plotline. So therefore, I shan't talk about it, nor shall I start fantasizing about images of Arthur in drag and Victor-

Disembodied crowd of voices: GET ON WITH IT!

Narrator: Ah- right. And so their affair continued quite happily for some time, with none of their family or friends any the wiser.

_Cut to the kitchen of the MacLeod's house, where Arthur is sitting eating breakfast with his wife, Vivian. She's a striking young woman with delicate features, shining blonde hair, and bright eyes_

Vivian: (looking up from her newspaper) Say… d'you know that police inspector 'oo lives a few blocks down?

_Arthur freezes with his fork halfway to his mouth, staring at Vivian. He hastily drops his fork and clears his throat when he realises what he is doing._

Arthur: Um. I'm not entirely sure, dear.

Vivian: Oh, you must know 'im- tall, 'andsome chap; always stridin' about down near the park?

Arthur: Oh, him, yeah. I, uh, don't _know _him, per se, but, uh, I know who you're talking about, yeah. Why?

_His wife gives him a curious little glance and ominous string music begins to play in the background. Arthur's eyes shift back and forth, he pulls at his collar, staring at Vivian, hoping that she isn't about to say…_

Vivian: Well, you'd never guess, but I just found out that I went to university with 'is wife! Isn't that exciting?

Arthur: (clearly relieved) Wonderful, Vi. Ah, who's his wife?

Vivian: (getting into her swing) Well, fancy you should ask that, dear. She's Barbara James, if you remember 'er; o' course now she's Barbara James-_Reginald, _but there we are, eh? I used to 'ave tea with 'er now and again- more than now and again, really. Jolly good times, those were. We ought to 'ave them over for supper sometime, what d'you think Arthur?

Arthur: I-

Vivian: (cutting him off) Excellent! I'll 'ave to call 'er up right away, then. This is rather lovely, isn't it? Next week, per'aps? Oh, I'm all of a-flutter…

_The sound fades out, but before it cuts, Arthur's face is seen, staring at his wife and looking absolutely panicked. Their dining room, one week later. Arthur and Vivian sit across from Victor and his wife, Barbara, a short, buxom woman with dark hair bound into a coif at the back of her head- not at all bad looking, but with a rather large nose. Victor, Barbara, and Vivian are all conversing quite normally, but Arthur is slouched in his chair, bright red in the face, carefully looking anywhere but at Victor._

Vivian: So I said to 'im, I did, "If you think you can turn blueberries to gold- I don't care 'ow you think you're going to do it- you're a bloody lunatic." That's what I said, isn'u it, dear?

_She turns to Arthur, but he isn't paying attention. She gives him a sharp rap over the head and he jumps and turns to look guiltily at her._

Arthur: Yes, Vivian?

Vivian: (exasperated) Hmmph. Never you mind; it's clear you don't care anyway; you've been in a queer mood all night. What's wrong anyway?

Arthur: (nervously, catching Victor's eye and turning bright red) Wrong? Nothing's wrong at all, Vi.

_Vivian starts to contradict him, but Barbara shakes her head, wearing an indulgent smile_

Barbara: Oh, let him be, Vivian dear. He's just having one of those man moments, you know what I mean. My Victor's been having a strange bit as well- distracted by some business associate he's always off seeing lately. Something very important, apparently, but he won't tell me a thing about it. Top secret and all that. I suppose it comes with having a husband in the police force, but there we are.

_Victor and Arthur both flush at the mention of his "business associate", meet each other's eyes, and then hastily and very obviously look away_

Narrator: Close shave though it appeared to be, neither Vivian nor Barbara seemed to have figured out anything at all about Arthur and Victor's affair, to the considerable relief and vague incredulity of the two men.

_Cut to Arthur and Victor, leaning against a brick wall in an alley the next day, conversing quietly with each other._

Victor: That was a close thing the other night, wasn't it?

Arthur: God, yeah. Put me off me supper, that did. I didn't know Vi knew your wife; gave me a bloody start when she started going on about getting you two over for dinner.

Victor: Seriously. When Barbara asked me if I knew "one Arthur MacLeod"- cor, nearly did me in. I thought she'd found us out.

Arthur: You think they will?

Victor: What?

Arthur: Find out about us. I mean- when you have to continue "meeting" with this supposed "business associate" of yours- she's bound to get curious. And my Vivian's a right noser- she'll start snooping around in time, y'mark me words, mate.

Victor: (with a wave of his hand) Bollocks. They won't- they're society ladies- too busy with all the important things they always seem to be doing to bother about their husbands. Don't worry, Arthur- they won't find out.

Arthur: But don't-

_Victor silences him by laying a finger to his lips, tracing them slowly. Arthur's protests cease at the touch and Victor smiles smugly._

Victor: Now be quiet, you silly person.

Arthur: Are you quite sure they won't find out?

Victor: (exasperated) Yes, I'm quite bloody sure, now shut it!

_Victor kisses him hard, shoving him up against the wall. Arthur struggles for a moment, but soon returns the kiss. It escalates until they are both snogging passionately. _

Narrator: However, in time, they _did _find out.

_Cut to a shot of the Neighbour Lady pruning her hedge, humming off-key to herself. She glances up and happens to look across the way. Her gaze finds the downstairs window of the MacLeod house. We don't know what she's seeing, but it is enough to make her gasp hugely, her eyes widening. With a shriek, she swoons and falls onto a pile of hedge clippings._

Narrator: And she told Vivian, who told her friends, who told their friends, who told their friends, who told Barbara, who told her friends, who told their friends, who- well, you get the picture.

_Cut to Arthur's bedroom, where he and Victor are lying, semi-clothed, on the bed, kissing lazily. In the background, a rumbling noise starts up, although the two take no notice at first. However, the rumbling is soon joined by a chorus of high-pitched chattering and occasional shouts. At this, Victor sits up, staring warily out the window._

Arthur: What is it, love?

Victor: I think… but no, it can't be.

Arthur: What're you… (a terrified look passes across his face as comprehension dawns)

Victor: (simultaneously) Shit!

Arthur: (simultaneously) Bloody hell!

Victor and Arthur: It's our wives!

_Cut to the street outside. The rumbling and chattering noises are coming from the end of the block. Suddenly, a veritable army of pepperpots fronted by Vivian, Barbara, and the Neighbour Lady comes into view, all chunnering angrily to each other and looking murderously down the street where the MacLeod's house sits. They are armed with a variety of formidable weapons; umbrellas, bags filled with tins of cat food, heavy purses, and knitting needles, not to mention the claws that many of them had in place of fingernails. _

Arthur: Quick, get dressed! I can sneak you out the back (looks out back window) Damnit, it's no use- they're back there as well. Hurry!

Victor: (pulling his shirt on as fast as he can) Right, let's go.

_Cut to an animated version of the street. A small, animated Arthur and Victor run out of Arthur's house, and turn 'round. When they see their wives, they scream, jump several feet into the air, and then dash headlong down the street. A seething mass of pepperpots follows after, raising a cloud of dust as they go. The running and screaming continue for some time, until…_

**CRASH!**

_A sixteen-ton weight falls on top of both Arthur and Victor. The army of women grinds to a halt. Switch out of animation. Vivian, Barbara, and the Neighbour Lady stand, contemplating the weight._

Neighbour Lady: (shrugging) Well, that's it, innit?

Vivian: Pity though, I was so looking forward to ripping 'em apart meself.

_The others nod in agreement and a chorus of mutters of assent comes from the crowd gathered behind the three women. There is a long silence_

Barbara: Eh. All's well that ends well, that's what they say. Who wants to come back to my house for tea?

_There are nods from the throng and shouts of "Me!" and "I should love to, Barbara darling." Slowly, they all filter away down the street, most to the Reginald's house, some to their own respective homes. The weight is left sitting there in the middle of the empty street. Begin fade to black._

Narrator: Well, it was nice while it lasted.

_The End._


End file.
